Flicker
by ADisplayOfPatience
Summary: My idea of what happened for those unaccounted months between seasons 2 and 3. It will have povs from Stiles, Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Derek, Isaac, and Peter. Pairings are mainly canon w/ some very minor Sterek and Scisaac.
1. Hard Nights and Early Mornings

**Author's Note: **this story will be written in seven different points of view using 3rd person perspective. It will change pov every chapter. Each pov follows the next chronologically with just some slight overlaps. This is my first story so I hope you enjoy! Feel free to critique!

...

**Hard Nights and Early Mornings **(Stiles)

Stiles could handle unrequited love, lusting after Lydia for 10 years with no progress. He could handle his best friend turning into a werewolf, trying to kill him. He could deal with that insufferable douchebag of a teacher dealing out detentions left and right and he could deal with being permanently benched for the entirety of the lacrosse season.

What Stiles couldn't handle, was the nightmares.

They weren't even nightmares anymore: they were night _terrors_.

They were so **vivid**. He woke up sometimes clawing at his own face, or hanging halfway out of his window about to plummet to the ground.

It was torture really.

All day he was constantly paranoid that at any moment he and his friends would be in deathly peril. Now even the night wasn't safe.

There was no promise of sound sleep, only terror.

Sleep avoided him like the plague.

'Insomnia' is what the guidance counselor had called it, but Stiles knew better.

It was fear.

_Gut-wrenching_ fear.

It clenched onto his stomach throughout the day and squeezed at night: He couldn't hold down a whole meal any more.

Which is a problem when you have the metabolism of a hyperactive growing teenage boy.

This fear was taking over his life chunk by chunk.

His family, his friends, hell, even Derek! None of them were safe anymore.

Whenever he shut his eyes, that fear would seep in through his ears whispering all the ways his loved ones would die.

And how it was all his fault.

Tonight was particularly awful.

It wasn't the usual wolf-about -to-eat-your-face dream.

It was a nightmare about his father.

It was the same scene from his hallucination at Lydia's party.

His dad was drunk: a bottle of jack Daniels in his hand and tears on his bottom lids.

...

"You killed your mother. You **killed** her."

He knew it was true, but hearing it out loud-from his father- hurt.

"It's all you, _Stiles_"

He said the name like it was venom.

But the dream went further than the hallucination.

The bottle hit his arm. It broke into a handful of large pieces on the floor.

Stiles could see himself in the dream, like he was a third party observer.

He was crying: pathetic.

His dad was yelling at him.

"YOU little BASTARD! YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED HER!"

Stiles tried to back up but he couldn't get his footing and tripped falling backwards, hitting his head.

"And now I'm left with _you_."

He snarled at him and Stiles prayed to any god that might exist that the hate glowing in his fathers eyes was just the alcohol.

They only had each other. They _had_ to look out for each other.

Right?

"Why are you doing this to me? I gave you everything and you took everything from me."

His dad turned and left, slamming a door that hadn't been there before blocking out all the light in the world leaving his son in the dark.

Stiles could hear his own heavy breathing.

He was alone.

It seemed like forever when suddenly he realized that he was sinking into the floor below him.

He moved, trying to escape the force pulling his body down, but his muscles wouldn't respond.

And suddenly he wasn't in the dark anymore. He was in the police station, paralyzed, watching Jackson rip his dad apart with his teeth: helpless.

And his dad kept yelling at him through the whole assault.

"You did this Stiles! It's all you!"

And Stiles knew it to be true.

If he hadn't been spying on his dad's police calls and hadn't tried to drag Scott out in the woods to find that body, he never would have been bitten.

It was all him. Jackson never would have found out and turned into the kanima and killed all those people.

And Lydia.

She's gone through so much.

And it was all him.

...

The last thing Stiles saw before waking up was the angry face of his father being ripped apart by the claws of his former friend.

He was sweaty.

the air around him was wet and cold due to the cool spring breeze slipping through his bedroom window.

The little glow of light in the room came from the moon: a waxing crescent.

He sighed.

He never in his sixteen and a half years of boyhood imagined that he'd ever have to keep track of the moon cycle.

But here he was.

Sitting up in bed, he closed his eyes, dragging his palms down the sides of his face.

What to do?

Sleep? Probably not. It was a rare event that he was able to go back asleep after a nightmare.

He could study, maybe? He _did_ have a chemistry test third period the next day, but how lame was that? And it was just science. Stiles had always had a knack for science.

After some none to motivated consideration, he decided between two things: go downstairs and eat everything in the fridge. Or jack off to porn.

Not feeling up to battling the stairs, he chose the latter.

He browsed for a bit before deciding on a website titled 'Gyrating Gingers' and clicking a video called "Red Hot Red Heads Give Red Hot Head."

If he squinted enough, the girl looked like Lydia.

Lydia with really big tits...and _really_ fake lips...and an ugly tattoo on her lower back...

And now he was soft again.

This process occupied him for a good half hour and seemed to tire him out considerably. He was worn out enough that he was able to drift off into this semi conscious state where he could still feel his blankets around him and hear his slow breath, but his eyes felt like they had been sewn shut.

Masturbating always sounded a lot more satisfying then it actually was.

Stiles was regretting his decision when he got out of bed in the morning feeling completely drained. It amazed him that for as intensely jittery and hyper he could get, he could get just as intensely lazy and apathetic.

He felt stupid.

How cliche was he?

Teenage boy waking up at some stupid hour in the morning just to jack off to porn, picturing the hottest girl in school calling his name.

_So lame_.

His friends had to worry about waking up at night and accidentally ripping someone's throat out. He woke up worried his dad would walk in on him wanking.

What a glorious life.

He splashed some cold water on his face, threw on a clean pair of jeans and his socks and hoodie from the previous day and headed down the stairs for breakfast.

Downstairs he found his father cooking over the stove.

"You want some scrambled eggs? I just bought a new bottle of ketchup?"

The sheriff said this over his shoulder, moving his head in his son's direction, but keeping his eyes on the frying pan. It made his eyes look entirely white causing Stiles to twitch a bit, reminding himself that his real dad And the father from his nightmares were different.

"Yeah...sure dad, but uh...hold the ketchup today?"

"Hold the ketchup? Really? What, have you finally decided to join the realm of the normal where we eat our eggs like they were meant to be: All 'naturel'?"

Stiles managed a huff that almost sounded like a laugh. Normally he'd jump at the chance to slather his breakfast in ketchup (it wasn't often that his dad let him), but today his stomach churned just at the thought of it.

Maybe it had something to do with the color.

He'd seen enough things covered in red liquid lately. His _friends_ mainly.

...or maybe he was just growing out of this childish habit?

He didn't care enough to think more on the subject as he steadily ate the eggs, trying to maintain control of his rebellious stomach. After he finished, he swallowed his daily dose of adder-all, plus a few to make up for the lack of sleep.

He thanked his dad and popped his shoes on on his way to his beloved jeep.


	2. Awkward

**Awkward** (Scott)

_Allison_.

The first thought to cross Scott's mind when he fell to sleep and when he woke up since that night.

_He still loved her._

But he couldn't tell her about her mother. He couldn't.

And that meant she still hated him. Or at least Derek.

But probably him considering how she hadn't spoken to him or even spared him a glance, a smile-_nothing_.

She had expertly avoided him and it was killing him.

He knew he would have to wait, he realized that.

What he didn't predict was how _aggressively_ alone this passive behavior would leave him. He missed her so much; especially her smell. It was weird, but since she broke up with him, she started smelling different. Scott didn't know if it was a new perfume or shampoo or what; Maybe some symbolic way of starting anew? He just knew he missed it. Her scent was comforting. It had only been a week and a half since she'd done the deed, and Scott's memory of the smell was already getting weaker.

It felt weird to be so worried about her when she wasn't reciprocating his feelings. It made him feel...possessive...verging on _obsessive_.

He glanced back at his alarm clock that had woken him up. He'd spent a whole ten minutes lost in his thoughts.

That was another thing.

Time seemed to move differently without Allison:minutes felt like hours, but hours felt like seconds.

He was beginning to hate clocks, opting to ignore them as often as possible.

Finally, Scott got up, swinging his legs out of bed first.

He considered changing pants for a moment. He'd slept in his jeans last night and for some reason the prospect of having to take off jeans just to put new ones on seemed impossibly daunting at the moment.

His lack of energy got to him and the pants stayed on. He reached in his dresser feeling around for the maroon sweater he knew was in there. Once his fingers felt the familiar material he withdrew his arm and haphazardly pulled the sweater over his head.

Time to face the day.

In the kitchen, his mother was already at the table;a bowl of oatmeal in font of her, eyes glued to the morning paper, and coffee in her hand.

"Morning." Scott grabbed a bowl and poured his cereal, followed by milk.

"Morning Hun. Didja sleep okay?" Her eyes stayed on the article she was reading.

"Meh." Scott didn't feel up to talking about his growing insomnia problems.

Especially not with his mother.

Scott finished his cereal quietly, taking the time to rinse the leftover milk out: a rule his mom had enforced since he was little.

He was surprised when his mother didn't press him for more than the halfhearted grunt he'd answered her with.

She'd been doing that a lot lately.

In fact she hadn't even once pestered him about Allison since he'd told her it was over. Even as he was telling her, she had come back with a, "you don't have to talk about it."

Scott didn't know how to feel about that.

He'd been trying to get his mom off his back for so many years that it was weird to have her just not care.

Maybe he was just getting to that age where you weren't supposed to go to your parents for things anymore?

Whatever it was, it was confusing, which seemed to be a recurring theme in his life lately.

Somewhere in the recepts of his mind, he knew it had to do with the whole werewolf thing.

She didn't want to talk about it. She said she was okay with it, but she didn't want to talk about it. Or at least not with him. Stiles and her had apparently made the odd joke or two, but with him it had remained at, " you don't have to".

Scott didn't _want_ to have to, so he felt like his moms attitude should have made him feel better. But then, he couldn't help feeling like he _should_ talk to her about it. Like technically, he was her property-at least until he was 18-so weren't you obligated to tell someone when you accidentally mess with their stuff?

Scott didn't realize how frustrated he was getting and as consequence ended up squeezing the bowl in his hand too hard.

The glass fractured, cutting his thumb.

"Ow, _shit_!" He stuck his thumb in his mouth sucking at the wound.

"I'll get a bandaid and some antiseptic. Hold still." His mother stood up, finally putting down the newspaper.

"Wait, wait," Scott removed the appendage from his mouth to examine it.

Like he suspected, it was healed,"I'm good, mom."

She looked a little stunned for a moment before the cogs started turning and she remembered why that could happen.

She looked to the floor.

There was an awkward moment filled by a wistful sounding, "oh, right,"from Melissa.

Scott couldn't handle the awkward tension.

" Well, I gotta go...I'll see you later?" Scott picked his bag up to go, but stopped at the sound of his mother's laughter.

"Haha, here wait,Scott," she reached toward him, slipped her fingers under the front collar of his shirt and produced...the shirt tag.

Scott laughed at himself.

"You might wanna turn your shirt the right way before you go."

He gave is mom a grin before he left and let out a sigh, accompanied by a relieved thought; At least some things never change.


	3. Change

**Change **(Jackson)

Everything was different now.

Jackson flashed himself a dazzling smile in the mirror.

Everything was different and everything was _awesome_.

He felt like the lyrics to that Kanye song:harder, better, faster, stronger.

He knew McCall was just being a bitch about this werewolf thing.

He did admit that it wasn't easy, but Scott had made it out to be the worst thing to happen to him.

Jackson couldn't disagree more.

Sure, he didn't know how to control it yet, and he shifted in awkward places still, but that would be fixed.

He'd already made a plan to threaten Scott after school to tell him his secrets. He had talked to Derek, but that guy was stupid. He had said something about finding an 'anchor' or whatever and then preceded to ramble on about how he was gonna need _his_ help during the next full moon because he would be 'too weak' to overcome it.

_Psh_. Bullshit.

Fuck Derek and his pussy pack.

As far as Jackson was concerned, _he_ had all the power now. He bowed to no one.

He looked in the mirror again, this time flexing his biceps a bit.

He'd surpassed his previous bench press record the other day and it showed in his arms.

Jackson smirked to himself. If Lydia loved his arms before (which she definitely did) then she would be dying to have them around her now.

Then Jackson remembered: He'd broken up with her.

He suddenly felt hot.

Pictures of Lydia in his arms, of nights they spent together, raced through his mind, searing his blood. He was panting and he could feel his teeth sharpening.

_Shit_.

It had never happened this early in the morning before.

He tried to breathe at a normal pace, but his lungs wouldn't listen.

He looked down at his fingers as they morphed into claws.

In a last ditch effort he tried to find an anchor like Hale had suggested.

What had he said his was...anger?

Jackson thought of McCall showing him up at lacrosse, of that brat Stilinski talking behind his back.

It wasn't working. He could feel the sideburns itching out of his skin.

Lastly he thought of his parents.

Their lies.

He wasn't theirs like they'd said.

He wasn't some miracle child they thought they would never have, he was an orphan of some dead people who were probably too drunk to see which side of the road they were on. He remembered the day his parents had told him. They hadn't even wanted to, but Jackson had found the form in their dresser when looking for money to buy something from the ice-cream truck .

He had been holding the paper in his hand.

He hadn't even read it yet.

His mom walked in on him going through her sock drawer when she gasped.

He thought he was in deep shit for trying to steal money, but all she said was, "Oh Jackson, I'm so sorry."

That's when he looked at the paper: a news article titled,

"Pregnant couple dies in car crash, but brings new life to infertile family!"

As he crumpled the paper in his memory, he punched his wall in real time, going straight through the drywall.

All he could feel now was heat. He wanted to rip things. He wanted to quiet the thousands of sounds screaming in his head.

And suddenly all he could smell was his parents and he wanted to rip them instead.

In his last conscious thoughts he remembered something Derek mentioned about pain being able to turn you back so he turned to his mirror again and smashed his face into it, glass showering him.

Jackson wasn't sure how long he was gone, but when he came to, he found himself huddled in the corner of his shower, his wounds healing, and his mother knocking on the bathroom door.

"Jackson, sweetie? Are you alright?"

His father was there too, "What did you do to your mirror, son?"

Jackson scrambled for an excuse as his mother began to open the door.

"DON'T COME IN!"

Jackson leaped with speed he still wasn't used to and slammed the door, catching his mother's hand.

He could hear her heartbeat increase: she was scared.

"Jackson," his father was upset now, " we don't slam doors in this house. Get out here and apologies to your mother. _Now_."

Jackson was annoyed.

His mother's feelings were the least of his worries right now.

But he apologized and it sounded surprisingly sincere he thought.

"I'm sorry, mom, I'm sorry"

He threw in the 'mom' as a bonus. He rarely called her that anymore, but he knew it made her happy so he hoped this would swing her to his side when he asked this next favor.

"Can I uh, stay home from school? I'm not feeling good."

He didn't even have to try to sound shakey or out of breath because he was so disheveled from his wolf-out.

He _wasn't_ scared though, just kind of...disoriented.

"You stayed home Monday." His father was always a hard-ass, freakin lawyers.

"Oh come on David. He's clearly not feeling well."

He knew the 'mom' card would work.

"Fine. Take out the trash though while we're gone. And do the dishes. And-"

"David!" He heard his mother hit his father's arm.

"Okay. We'll be back around 5, but we have to leave right after that to go to the Macey's for dinner. _Behave_."

His parents left, his mom offering a "feel better" over her shoulder before shutting the door.

Jackson held onto the sink and hesitantly looked in the mirror.

He relaxed his shoulders, relieved that he looked like him again: green eyes, no fangs.

He sat on the edge of the tub and ran a hand through his now sweaty hair.

Threatening Scott was gonna have to wait, he concluded and stripped down to take a cold shower.


	4. High School

**High-School** (Stiles)

Stiles never particularly like school.

He was pretty good at it, but he never loved it.

Middle-school was torture of course, but isn't it for everyone?

Being stuck in a classroom with 20 of your sweaty, hormonal, pubescent peers was unpleasant for everyone. It was especially worse when you constantly felt the need to be tapping a pencil or climbing the walls.

His ADHD had been at its worst in Middle school with extra hormone boost from puberty. And everyone hated the kid who asked to many questions and bounced in his chair all class.

They had tried Ritalin before the Adderall. He had hated it. It made him feel totally empty inside so he'd tried to hide the pills from his dad, but when he didn't take them he'd get these splitting headaches.

Altogether they made for a lack of sleep or motivation to do anything at all really.

When they found the Adderall, Stiles had discovered that they if you took one too many, you could focus on everything. the world was suddenly crystal clear.

And if you took a few more than me too many, you could go without sleep for a few nights...if you didn't mind a few headaches.

High-School was a lot better though.

In middle school there were those teachers who just wouldn't get off your back. They thought you were deliberately trying to insult them with every question or every fidget.

They cared a lot less in HighSchool.

They let you do pretty much whatever you wanted if you weren't too loud about it.

Most of The teachers cared a lot more about just teaching then disciplining.

That is, except for Mr. Harris.

Stiles was outside the front doors talking to Scott-he hadn't even made it in the school- when sauntered by, glared at him, and said: "detention".

What an asshole.

Stiles was pissed.

Ever since his father had him questioned Harrison had been extra strict with him. It was bordering on _harassment_. Before though, he had lacrosse as an excuse to ditch detention. Now with the season over, he had nothing.

"God I hate that guy! Did you see that? I mean, I didn't even say anything to him and he just walks up with his beady eyes and is like 'Detention'." Stiles did his best imitation of his teacher , crossing his arms over his chest making a sour face.

Scott didn't answer.

He looked focused on something down the hall.

Stiles looked behind him and wasn't surprised to see Allison standing at her locker, smiling, laughing with Lydia about lipstick or magazines or whatever it was that Girls talked about.

He let out a sigh.

Stiles loved his best friend, but sometimes the whole 'Allison is the center of my universe' thing got a little old.

He didn't talk about Lydia that much did he?

He announced his annoyance, careful he wasn't too honest.

"Dude, Scott...SCOTT!"

Stiles gave his friend a light smack to the back of the head.

"Ow! What?" Scott sounded angry, but Stiles new he was just embarrassed at being caught ogling at Allison.

"Come on Dude, you gotta let her needs her space, you need yours. Maybe in a while things can pick back up again, but right now you can't be near each other. Unless you want her dad to shoot you in the face with a crossbow!"

"Stiles, it's not that easy. I can't just forget about her. I can't."

Stiles felt bad for his friend. He could see the pain of being alone on his face and it looked familiar. it was the same face he made when he saw them together: Lydia and Jackson.

"Listen buddy," Stiles put a hand on his friends shoulder,"I get it. I can't just forget about Lydia either. But she's with-"

Scott shook off his friend's hand, this time the anger in his voice was real.

"No Stiles you don't get it! You and Lydia weren't real like me and Allison were. you weren't...you don't..."

Stiles froze. The look on his face must have pretty accurately displayed how he felt because Scott looked a lot less angry and a lot more guilt stricken.

"Stiles I-"

"Ya know,Scott, Sometimes you're a real asshole."

Stiles tried to walk away, but Scott got in his way before he could make any real ground.

"No, look, I'm-You know I didn't mean it, alright? I'm just-it's just Allison is just-"

"Yeah, yeah I know."

Stiles didn't want to stay angry. He had enough keeping him up at night as it was.

With that the bell rang and they headed to class.


	5. Fashionably Late

**Fashionably Late** (Lydia)

Lydia's alarm rang for six hours before she finally woke up to shut it off.

Lydia hadn't slept like this for months. She went to bed at around eight and she had just woken up ten minutes was pretty much noon now so she had slept what, about 15 hours?That was more than she had slept in the past six nights combined.

Needless to say, she was pretty pleased with herself.

Things finally seemed to be returning to normal...if you miscounted the whole, everyone dying and/or turning into mythological creatures.

But Lydia didn't want to think about that.

The past was for people with regrets and Lydia didn't make mistakes.

All Lydia wanted to think about was the look on everyone's face when she walked into class late, with her new Louis Vuitton handbag and her hot off the mark Betsy Johnson pumps.

But first, a hot shower.

The heat would open her pores to ensure that no dirt was trapped inside. She couldn't have blackheads on her first day back after her 2 week absence.

Had to make a statement.

She snagged a towel from the bathroom closet and called to Prada.

She let her dog in , put her towel on the rack and locked the door behind her.

"Okay Prada, keep watch."

She stepped in and turned the faucet, checking that the drain wasn't clogged, then checking again every 2 minutes.

Lydia also sneaked a look past the shower curtain periodically just to make sure Prada was still there.

Prada got antsy if She was left alone too long, so Lydia had started bringing her around the house with her to comfort her. It wasn't ideal, but she didn't want her to spaz out just because she was in the shower.

When Lydia finished she put on the outfit she had set out the night before and began primping. What would have taken a regular person an hour to do, Lydia did in 15 minutes; make up, hair, everything.

She selected a ring from her jewelry box to match her earrings, and blew a kiss at herself in the mirror.

She was about to depart when she felt something in her jacket pocket.

She knew what it was and she felt foolish for forgetting to take it out.

But, if Jackson wasn't going to be her boyfriend, she certainly wasn't going to carry around his key like some dumb, _lovesick_ teenager.

She wasn't Allison.

So with a final stroke behind the ears for Prada, Lydia was on her way to make her grand re-entrance into Beacon Hills High.


	6. Interrupted

**Interrupted** (Derek)

Derek stood at the entrance of the Beacon Hills Town hall.

He didn't want to go in.

Normally, He made it a habit to avoid places with too many security cameras, which, considering how often he was wanted by the police, was a good habit to have.

But, he was low on cash.

He couldn't really apply for a _real_ job. His record would prevent from being successful in that area.

So, he settled with odd jobs or favors that people needed done: most of it boring manual labor.

There was a bulletin board inside on which townspeople could post request like, "need someone to watch cat while away" or "need help moving in".

Generally this kinda stuff paid pretty well. _Nobody_ in Beacon hills was poor, so they always gave pretty good tips.

Derek shook his head.

What he _needed_ was to go to the bank and take out money from his college fund that he'd started back when he thought he would be going to school.

But back when his parents were still alive, they had restricted his account so that he could only take so much out of it every month.

So this was the fastest way to get money.

And he needed it.

He was tired of sleeping in the basement of an abandoned house.

He was saving up to buy a loft downtown.

The rent was affordable and the space looked small, but would be more than enough for one person to live in.

So Derek put on his sunglasses and a baseball cap he'd found lying around and headed in-or _would have_ had he not been interrupted.


	7. Running

**Running** (Isaac)

Isaac was good at running.

He always had been.

He'd been doing track since he was 10. And he'd never finished lower than 3rd in meet.

Ever.

Running was something that felt natural to him.

And because he was so good at it, he happened to like it too.

It wasn't like all the other sports he did: swimming, lacrosse, soccer, they were all about competition, winning.

Running though? Running just felt good. He didn't have to try, he just did it.

He liked it. And He didn't need a reason to like it, he just did.

And Becoming a werewolf had certainly given him more opportunities to do what he loved.

Like right now.

He wasn't just racing towards town for the hell of it, he was being chased.

Earlier that day he had been in the woods training.

The school had been really lenient with him since his dad died and the whole getting arrested thing happened and had let him take an undetermined leave of absence.

Which was why Isaac was actually up a tree when he heard it.

A low growl partnered with the familiar pounding of four foot running.

He could tell from the sound of its tread that the creature sprinting was way too light to be a bear or a mountain lion, but it wasn't hoofed so it couldn't be a deer.

He squinted from his position high up on an oak brach, trying to engage his better vision to see if he could spot whatever it was.

It took him a few seconds but he found what he was looking for and it nearly startled him out of the tree he was perched in.

It was a werewolf.

And not anyone he had seen before.

What had really set him back though was the two red flashing orbs that were looking straight back at him.

And thus came about the reason to run.

If that Alpha was really coming for him, which it sure as hell looked like it was, then he needed to get out of there fast.

He needed to find Derek.

So now he was here at town hall,darting through parked cars, to reach Derek.

He saw him about to enter the building and stopped him with a shout.

"DEREK!"

He turned around at the sound of his name.

Isaac was surprised he recognized him at all with the baseball cap and sunglasses on. He actually looked more his age wearing them. Less intense...less savage.

"Derek, one of the alphas," Isaac was trying to be concise through his gasps of air,"they found me. Don't know if its following me or not."

Derek raised his eyebrows and frowned.

In a harsh whisper he responded, "And you led it to TOWN HALL? What, did you think it would stop and chat with us in the parking lot!? We can't fight it here! Not in front of all these people, damn it!"

Isaac felt stupid.

He usually did with Derek.

"We can lead it back to our place and-"

Derek fisted his hair and turned away, still quietly shouting.

"No! We are _not_ leading the whole alpha pack to our hideout, how stupid are you!?Thats exactly what they want."

He was so condescending.

Whenever Derek got like this, Isaac couldn't help comparing him to his dad. They were _so_ _similar_ sometimes.

It was unsettling.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Shhh quiet." Derek held a hand up to silence Isaac and trained his eyes at the ground. He was listening for something.

Isaac shut up and listened for whatever it was Derek was hearing.

He couldn't hear anything, but Derek stood up straight and said, " They're coming." And bolted back towards the woods.

Isaac hesitated, "They?"

He could have sworn he had only seen one before.

And then he could hear it, two identical heartbeats.

"Isaac move!"

Derek didn't turn around as he yelled, but Isaac got the message.

He ran through the trees, trailing slightly behind Derek. They had only been running for maybe 2 minutes when he saw them. They passed by in a blur, going the opposite direction, but Isaac had locked eyes with one of them for that split second.

Isaac's heart leaped.

"Derek? Derek, I think they saw me. Derek?"

But Derek wasn't answering and suddenly Isaac couldn't hear the other wolves running any more.

He squeezed his eyes shut to help him concentrate on his hearing.

But all he could hear was his short, shallow breaths.

He stopped running, thinking maybe if he could just slow his heart down a bit, he might be able to clear his head some and pinpoint where it was they were headed.

A few suspenseful seconds passed before he locked onto a the sound of feet crunching dead leaves.

They were getting louder, closer.

He opened his eyes and spun around.

The footsteps seemed to be on top of him but he couldn't see anything!

And then there was a shift in the air behind him. He could sense someone.

And they were _angry_.

He unleashed his claws, but before he could turn around he was shoved to the ground, his assailant on top of him.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

Derek.

Isaac was simultaneously relieved and terrified.

He wanted to throw his arms in front of his face and curl up in a ball, but Derek had his arms pinned yo the Forrest floor.

"When I say 'move' that means until I say 'stop'. Got it?"

Derek's growling shook everything. Isaac could feel it tremor all the way from Derek's throat, through his chest, out his arms and into his own body making him shiver.

Isaac felt embarrassed at how submissive he was, but the closer Derek got to him, the more inferior he felt. One of the perks of being an Alpha, he guessed.

There was a kind of comfort in being the subordinate underling though.

Taking orders was something he was used to,what with growing up doing sports his whole life and living with his authoritarian father. Hed grown up with a strict set of rules in almost everything he did.

Isaac wondered sometimes if that was the reason His brother joined the military. Because it was familiar. College came with so much freedom that he probably would have had no idea what to do with it.

That was the biggest difference between him and his brother.

Camden was like his mother. He wanted structure. But Isaac was impulsive like his dad.

"Get up. We have to get to the house." Derek freed Isaac and ran in the direction of the old hale house. As Derek put more distance between them, Isaac felt more stable. He wiped off the bits of Forrest that had stuck to his arms and set off after Derek.

As he ran, he tried to ask himself if this whole werewolf predicament had really been worth it all.

He thought he'd have less restrictions, less orders, or at least less pain. But didn't he just end up with less family, less friends and a whole new world of hurt?

In the end He decided that some questions were better left unasked. He cleared his mind with a shake and instead, focused on what he was good at.


	8. A Plan?

**A plan?** (Derek)

Derek skidded to a hault in front of his old home.

Isaac was next to him dutifully awaiting the next order.

This made Derek happy. He hadn't been feeling too great since becoming an alpha.

He pretty much failed at everything he tried since his eyes starting glowing a new color and that had soured his mood considerably in the past couple months.

He spent too much time going over the list of ways he sucked as a leader in his head, so it was a nice change to feel positive for a while.

Sure, Isaac was frustrating, and unrightfully cocky at times, but he had stayed.

That meant more to Derek than he would admit. He was Derek's first pack member and he had stayed even through these failures they'd had.

In short, he was grateful. He hadn't had a lot of luck with loyalty lately, but He liked to think that Isaac's return that night meant that he wasn't all that shitty of a leader after all.

To show his appreciation, he decided to let Isaac go through the door first.

"You can go in now." He gestured with his hand towards the front door.

And Isaac complied with a soft ,"Oh, right."

Derek smiled to himself, satisfied. His mother had always told him actions spoke louder than words.

Inside the house, he watched Isaac sit down on the dusty sofa, slinging an arm across the back and resting his left ankle over his knee. Derek thought he'd leave him his space and leaned against the wall opposite from him, crossing his arms.

Isaac seemed confused though and stood up in front of the couch arms up in surrender, "I'm sorry, did you uh, did you-" he gestured at the couch.

"No. Sit." Derek thought he may have sounded too harsh with that. He was just trying to be nice, but Isaac was making it awkward as he sat down cautiously, back straight this time and his long limbs stuck by his sides.

Derek thought he might look worried but after a quick assessment just decided that his eyebrows were kind of stuck like that sometimes.

"So. What did you see?" Derek was quickly losing his will to sound friendly.

People pleasing was hard.

"We'll there was one at first, but then there were two, and they were both alphas I think." Derek squinted at Isaac.

"You 'think'?"

"Yeah, I dunno, I only saw one set of eyes, but I assumed that since that one was an alpha and you said that mark on the front door was an alpha 'pack' symbol that they both were...alphas..." Isaac was a tall guy, but sitting there on the couch, looking up at Derek, he thought he looked pretty meek for someone his size.

"What did the first one you saw look like?"

Derek didn't like to skirt around the point.

"We'll, I didn't really see much of it, it looked...big...and...black."

Derek rolled his eyes inwardly, how descriptive.

"_Boyd_ black, or _Peter_ Black?"

Isaac chuckled at the question, but Derek wasn't in the mood for laughs.

He watched Isaac try to cover up with a cough.

It was embarrassing.

"Peter. Not Boyd."

"Okay, so we know of three so far. And at least one of them is strong enough to almost fully change form on will."

Derek thought for a moment. He silently willed a plan of action to pop into his head, but nothing came.

Then Isaac spoke up.

"Do you really think they have Boyd and Erica?"

Isaac sounded skeptical.

Derek looked him in the eyes as he told him, "Yes. I know they have them. They wouldn't have left the mark otherwise. It has to be them."

Isaac still didn't look convinced.

"But how do you know they aren't just...dead."

Derek had wondered that himself. It seemed like the most probable solution as to why they couldn't find them, but Derek refused to believe this.

"No. They're alive. Dead people still smell like themselves for weeks after they die and I can't even get a hint of Erica or Boyd's smell anywhere. They have to know we'd be tracking them and must have found a way to mask their scents from us somehow. And besides, _I'm their alpha,_ I'm pretty sure I would feel it of one of my pack members died." Derek was pretty sure he was making this up, but it sounded good enough when he said it that he almost believed it himself.

"Hey, " Isaac looked excited, "we can't track Boyd and Erica, but maybe we could track one of the alphas. If we could get something of theirs, then we could use their scent to find their base, right?"

Derek was surprised. He hadn't even thought of asking Isaac for strategic advice before.

"We would have to make sure they didn't know what we were planning or they could cover up their scents too."

Derek couldn't help but smile a little.

This was the most promising plan he'd had in weeks!Really it was the first one he had that didn't involve someone dying.

"We could disguise it as an accident, like, we could lure them to us and then stick around long enough to get their scent and then run off." Isaac was on a roll, but Derek had already of course found some flaws.

"We can't control how many of them show up though and we cant fight all of them at once."

Isaac's mood deflated a little.

"But if we somehow lead them to multiple parts of the woods they would have to split up. We might be able to take on a couple, or at least outrun them."

Derek offered.

"But how could we do that? Would we just separate and howl until they came at us?"

Derek thought for a minute.

"It would be better to stay together, but I think you're right. Separating is unavoidable. But we need more people. The two of us can't succeed alone. We're gonna have to ask Scott. Maybe even Jackson."

"Ha, good luck with that. Scott doesn't even know there is an alpha pack yet! And Jacksons way to into himself to help anybody else!"

Derek glared at Isaac warning him to watch himself.

Isaac caught himself and shut up again.

"Maybe we can't get Jackson, but we have to try. I don't know how else we're gonna do this. And Scott will help. He wants to find Boyd and Erica as much as we do. If he finds out about the alphas he finds out. I'll think of something."

Derek was becoming more and more unsure of this plan.

"I'm fast."

Derek stared at Isaac. "Okay."

" No, I mean, I can be the distraction." Isaac elaborated, "You can call them to me and I'll get a head start. Then you're free to find their scent and get out of there."

"And you?"

Isaac sighed. "We'll, I'll try to get away, but hey, if They do catch me, and They don't kill me, maybe they'll bring me to Erica and Boyd and maybe I can help them escape from the inside, presuming they aren't already dead."

"And if you die? I'll be left without a pack."

Derek was frustrated. He hated thinking too much about decisions. Every choice lead to death in the end somehow.

"You can always bite more people and start over."

Isaac got up and walked to the door.

Derek felt like he should correct that last statement somehow, but what Isaac said was true, and even though it sounded wrong somehow, Derek couldn't figure out why, so he let it be.

He stopped Isaac before he opened the door, "Isaac."

"Yeah?"

"Stay. If we're gonna do this, we gotta act fast. We don't know when they'll come out of hiding again."

"Right." Isaac dropped his hand from the door knob and made his way back to the sofa as Derek passed him.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Me? I've gotta get Scott."

Derek shut the door behind him and pleaded with whatever force above might be listening, 'please let this work.'


	9. A Wild Hale Appears

**A Wild Hale Appears** (Stiles)

School passed without much interference for Stiles.

Lydia had shown up looking like a rock star and annoyingly, the only thing she'd said to him all day was, "Have you seen Jackson?"

He would never understand what she saw in that guy.

On the more academic side if things, Stiles took his chem test and was pretty sure he aced it.

Harris left him alone the entire period save for the very end when he reminded him not to be late for his detention.

Stiles was just about in the cafeteria to get lunch when he smelt something.

The smell of fresh pine and rotten leaves all in one: Derek.

Stiles scanned the lunchroom. He checked the corners first, Derek seemed to have a knack for appearing in corners, especially dark ones, but they were empty.

Then he felt hot air ghost over his shoulder followed by,

"Where's Scott? We've got a problem."

Stiles jumped, but tried to hide it by turning around to face Derek.

"Dude, ahg so creepy you're so creepy! Give a guy a warning huh? Ya know, I'm really starting to question the security here at school what with how many times they let you in."

Derek was unamused.

"Where's Scott?"

"I mean they should know better," Stiles clicked his tongue," letting strays run rampant through the halls."

Stiles grinned.

" Ha. Ha. Where's Scott?"

Stiles wasn't finished.

"Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the doggy bed this mor-ow!"

Derek slammed Stiles into the closest wall, hand around his throat, but not tightly enough to block his airways.

"I'm getting impatient. Where is he?"

Stiles put his hands up in surrender.

"Okay okay, down boy."

Derek pulled his hand back and Stiles flinched, the smile now gone.

But Derek's hand never connected.

"Derek? What the hell are you doing here?"

Scott.

Derek predictably avoided the question, answering with a command.

"We need to go. Get your stuff. Meet me outside in five."

Derek waited for Scott to leave before snarling in Stiles' face, "You like jokes huh? How's this, How about I make your face my new chew toy?" He bared his teeth with a half smile, half growl.

"Yeah see, that sounded more like a threat. It's all about delivery with thes-"

Derek dropped Stiles to the ground finally with an eye roll.

"Are you coming or not?"

" Me?," he feigned flattery," how kind of you to-"

" If you're not there in three minutes, we're leaving without you."

Stiles got the message, ceasing his banter with himself. Derek was clearly pissed at something today, and he rather appreciated his face the way it was: un-mauled.

"Right. Noted."

Stiles got up brushed himself off, straightened out his shirt, and set off to catch up to Scott and Derek.


	10. Misery Loves Company

**Misery loves Company** (Lydia)

Nobody noticed.

Nobody stopped her in the halls to catch -up, no one even waved at her as she walked by.

The only person to welcome her back the entire day was Mr. Finstock. And that was probably just some weird attempt to hit on her, knowing him.

She looked great and no one cared.

She had been gone for two weeks and not one person asked where she had been.

Okay, Well, Allison had asked if she was alright, but that was because she actually knew why she had been gone already.

It didn't count.

And besides, Lydia didn't want to dwell on that kind of stuff.

She tried to change the topic, but Unfortunately most of what Allison had to say revolved solely around either herself or Scott which usually was okay, but lately those two subjects just about bored her to tears.

What Lydia wanted to do was talk about fun things like, nails, or shopping, or -

just then Scott and Stiles walked by.

Allison stopped talking and turned into her locker, pretending to get books.

"Lydia, stop staring, I told you I don't want to give him an excuse to come talk to me."

"Yeah,"Lydia waved her off,"I'll be right back. One sec."

Lydia walked at a brisk pace until she caught up with the two boys.

"Hey," they turned around and were surprised to see her. She wasn't surprised to see the two of them give her a quick up down with the eyes. She knew how she looked.

But back to the point.

"Have either of you seen Jackson?"

Stiles wanted her, she could tell. His mouth was open and he couldn't stop staring at her lips. She bit her bottom one to tease him, keeping her eyes locked on Scott so that Stiles wouldn't know shed done it on purpose.

"Naw, he wasn't in English or weight training. He's probably home. I imagine this whole thing is hitting him pretty hard, ya know?"

Scott continued to ramble on about this paranormal/supernatural crap that Lydia just didn't care about.

God, he and Allison deserve each other, she thought bitterly before making a hasty exit.

"Okay well, I got what I wanted so...bye."

She left them, swinging her hips as she walked just because it made her feel good.

Really she wanted to stomp off in a fit though.

Jackson wasn't here.

It's not that she cared, she was just looking forward to seeing the stupid look on his face when she walked in looking so good in front of everyone.

He would have looked like such an idiot for having dumped her then.

But that would have to be another day she decided as instead she put her brightest smile on and her best foot forward, strutting right up to the Jocks at their lunch table, leaned over it, squeezing her arms close to her sides to help push her boobs out more, and whispered into the closest guy's ear, "So, Greenberg, whatcha doin tonight?"


	11. I See a Red Door

**I See a Red Door** (Stiles)

"So, what are we doing here?"

Derek filled them in on the drive there.

Supposedly, he and Isaac had reason to believe that there was another wolf pack nearby. They'd heard foreign howling near the south side of town in the woods. Derek wouldnt tell them much other than that. What was more important was that they appeared to have Erica and Boyd with them. Derek seemed sure they were hostages.

"So how do you know Erica and Boyd didn't just ditch you and join this other pack?" Stiles kept his eyes on the road.

" No. It takes a lot of power just to withstand the wishes of your alpha let alone full out betray them. Being turned so recently, they are far too weak to do that. In fact the only reason they survived running away is that they were with each other. They'd be dead if they were on their own."

"Okay, that's great and all, but where's your proof that they're even with them?" Scott wasn't too eager to be on a wild goose chase.

Derek huffed, frustrated, "Just listen okay? I'll tell you everything, when we get to the house, but I need you to just listen right now.

Scott nodded in agreement and Derek told them the plan of action.

...

Derek finished explaining right as the old Hale house came into view, but before Anyone could get out of the car, Scott spoke up.

"Wait, what!? You can't just use Isaac as bait! How do you know these wolves won't just kill him on sight!? He's been turned for what, two months? You don't know how experienced these guys are! You don't even know if this is really a wolfpack! What if its hunters trying to lure you in to a trap? You can't just sacrifice him!"

"You don't know the whole story yet," Derek's voice was unusually steady for having just been yelled at, "and besides, it's not like I'm forcing him to do this, he wants to help. And he owes me anyway."

Derek hopped out of The jeep, Scott and Stiles in tow.

"Oh yeah, cuz you've done so much for him." Scott rolled his eyes.

"Hey," Derek spun around in a flash and pushed a hand into Scott's chest.

To Scotts credit, he didn't budge.

"You owe me too ya know. I taught you how to control yourself when-"

"Oh cut it with this "wolf teacher" crap," Scott shoved away the older male's arm," you haven't taught me anything. In fact,if it wasn't for your crazy uncle, I wouldn't even be in this mess! And I bet Boyd and Erica are thinking the same thing about you!"

"You better shut up McCall or-"

"Or what Derek? I'm already a freak, how else can you possibly ruin my life?"

"Maybe I'll just end it!"

The claws came out and teeth were bared on both sides.

Thats when Stiles decided to intervene.

"Ladies, please, no need to scratch up your pretty faces! Lets put the claws away for now. This is about Boyd and Erica, alright? Your wolf-off can wait."

There was a moment of silence filled with heavy breathing.

Then Derek and Scott became far less pointy and dangerous and Stiles let out his breath.

"Phew, okay, good. Now lets get inside, away from my jeep, in case either of you decide to assert your alpha-ness again, yeah?"

Derek growled at Stiles.

He flinched predictably, but that seemed to satisfy Derek's rage and they all headed to the house.

"Painted the door I see. Red, lovely choice: brings out your eyes." Stiles flashed a smile in Derek's direction.

A smack to the back of his head was all the response be got.

Stiles and Derek passed over the threshold, but Scott paused,"Why'd you paint the door?"

Stiles wasn't sure why this seemed to matter so much.

"I don't know," Derek's words were short, clipped, "it just needed to be done. Are you coming in or not?"

"Yeah I just," Scott put his hand on the door and instantly doubled over clutching his head like his skull was gonna fall apart if he didn't hold it together.

Stiles stepped forward, about to help his friend up but stopped short.

As quickly as he was down he was up again, scratching away at the paint on the door with vigor.

Derek was behind them both yelling at Scott to stop, telling Stiles to hold him back, but Stiles just watched utterly oblivious as the paint Scott tore at floated through the air in little red flecks.

Then he saw it. A symbol.

"What is this!?" Stiles could hear the hurt of betrayal in his friend's voice.

"It's nothing just come in." Scott didn't budge.

"Derek this is important, I know it is. I can feel it! What does it mean?" Scott sounded worried and that worried Stiles.

"Why'd you paint the door Derek? So I wouldn't see this?"

"Scott. Drop it."

"No way Derek! If your gonna ask me for my help, then you better start explaining."

Scott's eyes flashed.

Stiles did not want to be in the middle of this, so naturally, he stepped right in between them.

"Okay I get it, we're both very grumpy here. How about we just take some deep breaths-"

"Get out of the way Stiles." Derek's eyes lit up as well.

Stiles laughed nervously,"Or I could just let you guys handle it. Yup, I'll just wait...over here...way over here." Stiles gestured behind him, backing up slowly.

"Move!" Both of them growled this.

Stiles ducked down just in time to avoid having his face slashed.

He crab walked awkwardly away from the scuffle, feeling a little embarrassed and very helpless.

"How long do you plan on keeping me in the Dark!? If you want my help you're gonna have to trust me!"

Stiles wasn't sure Scott was getting his point across considering he lunged straight for Derek's throat after that last line: not exactly a trust builder, but we all have our methods.

Derek easily sidestepped the attack, elbowed Scott's exposed back, and brought him crashing to the ground. He grabbed Scott's hair using it to smash his face into the wooden floor below, then kept his palm there, pressing his face down while he managed to get down next to him to place a knee into the small of Scott's back.

"Listen Scotty," Derek's sarcasm looked tangible as Stiles watched the spit fly from in between his gritted teeth.

"I'm not 'asking for your help'. You said you wanted to be included if we found a lead on Erica and Boyd," He leaned down right next to Scott's ear, " If you've changed your mind," Derek stood up so fast Stiles wasn't sure how it happened, "Well, you know where the door is."

Scott panted from his position on the floor, trying to get his heart rate back to human speed while Stiles watched Derek disappear down the stairs into the

Basement.

"You good Scott?" Stiles pulled his pants up as he got up, making his way toward his friend.

"Yeah, I'm good." Stiles offered a hand to help him up and Scott took it with a reluctant scowl.

"Hey don't sweat it man, " Stiles patted his friend on the back leaving his arm on his shoulders, "He still scares me too." He whispered the other part under his breath hoping that Scott was the only one using his 'super hearing'.

Scott answered with a commiserating nod and the pair followed Derek down the stairs.


	12. Alone Again

**Alone Again** (Jackson)

It had been a pretty uneventful day for Jackson.

He hadn't had any surprises since the outburst that morning and was regretting his decision to stay home from School.

He had already missed four days within the last two weeks.

This may not seem like much for some people, but Jackson wasn't just some people. He didn't look the type, but Jackson had held his perfect attendance record since the sixth grade. He didn't like missing school and he hated being behind in classes. Besides, he had a reputation to withhold. You couldn't very well be popular in HighSchool if you never showed up.

Yet he was at home.

As much as he disliked being absent, he disliked uncertainty even more. He liked things that were predictable. That was part of the reason he'd stayed with Lydia so long...and the reason he'd broken up with her when he did.

And that's why he'd missed school. This werewolf stuff was too unpredictable. He hated not being in control of his powers.

Jackson had trust issues. He only trusted himself because he was convinced he was the only reliable person around. Now that wasn't even true. So he had to get this under control: pronto.

He was working out in his room listening to Drake's "Started From the Bottom" when he heard the doorbell ring.

It wasn't his parents, it was too early for them to be home.

He decided it was probably some stupid Girl Scout or Jehovah's Witness guy and went back to working out.

The doorbell rang again.

Jackson ignored it.

Then again.

Jackson let out an angry "Go away I don't want what your selling."

Then he heard loud knocking and someone trying to say something.

He grunted in frustration, put down his weights and turned off the music to hear,

"I know you're in there dude and you might wanna open the door so I can give you the homework you asked me to get for you."

Danny.

_Shit_.

He'd forgotten that he'd asked him to get his absent work.

Jackson jogged down the stairs and tried to look apologetic when he opened the door.

"Sorry man, forgot."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

Danny was smiling like he always was which mad Jackson a little less angry at himself for forgetting.

"You wanna come in? I just ordered 'Fast and Furious 6' on demand last night. I wouldn't mind seeing it again."

Jackson said the words without thinking. His body's way of telling him he was in dire need of social interaction he surmised.

"I dunno, I have to pick my little sister up in an hour from her piano lessons..."

"Aw come on, she can walk, I've got beer!"

Danny chewed his bottom lip.

"And popcorn." Jackson offered, even though he knew he didn't have to. Danny never left him hangin.

"Alright, I'm in."

The pair bro hugged in the door was quicker than usual with Danny pulling away saying, "Dude, Jackson, you freakin reek." He laughed, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Don't pretend you don't love it."

Jackson shot his arms straight up and took a strong whiff of his pits.

He knew he was sweaty, but he didn't actually think he smelled that bad.

"You're so nasty" Jackson could tell Danny didn't really care as he watched him fling his bag on the ground next to his couch and sprawl out over the cushions.

"Sorry, I thought you of all people would be able to appreciate the raw scent of pure man." Jackson flexed his muscles, striking a pose.

He waggled his eyebrows.

He knew Danny said he wasn't his type, but that was totally just to make it less awkward.

He was _everyone's_ type.

"Very funny asshole. Where's my popcorn?" Danny rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on, how can you even _imply_ that you don't want this?_Everyone_ wants this."

Jackson was joking...mostly. He really was baffled as to why Danny didn't think he was his type. What wasn't to love?

When Danny just laughed, Jackson took off his sweaty tank top, rolled it up and threw it at him. Danny threw it back, and before long they were wrestling each other on the floor.

Eventually Jackson pinned him, refusing to get off until he agreed that he was the sexiest guy in Beacon Hills. They made popcorn to snack on while they watched the movie, and drank Mountain Dew, forgetting about the beer.

It was weird for Jackson to hear all the individual soda bubbles popping like pop rocks. At first he thought it was something wrong with the TV, but when Danny gave him a confused look, he remembered his enhanced hearing abilities.

The popcorn was worse. It was so loud, Jackson had wanted to punch Danny in the face for chewing with his mouth open at one point, but he managed to drown it out eventually by blasting the movie instead.

After the movie, Danny stuck around to talk about school: the work and the fights he'd missed. He had been going on about how Greenberg had his ass handed to him by Brendan from the football team when he watched Danny pause. He could hear his friends heart speed up by a fraction of a second.

He watched Danny's smile drop a little and could hear the worry in his laugh.

"Wait what is it."

Jackson was serious now. He didn't like being left in the dark.

"What are you-"

"Danny, I know you're keeping something from me. What is it."

He watched Danny clearly didn't want to tell him, whatever it was.

"It's about...Lydia." Danny searched his eyes probably to make sure that if Jackson was going to get angry, he would be out of the way.

But why would he be angry? Lydia and he were broken up. She wasn't ...his anymore.

"What about her?"Jackson didn't like the way his voice sounded when he said that. Like he cared.

He didn't.

"Well, she came up to the table at lunch today and said something in Greenberg's ear like she didn't want the rest of us to hear."

"Well what was it? What did she say?," Jackson cleared his throat, " Like, should I really care?" He scoffed.

"Well I don't know for sure, but Greenberg looked pretty psyched when she left. And knowing her track record with guys..."

"_Excuse_ me?" Aw shit that totally sounded like he cared.

"Jackson you know what I mean."

"Whatever. If she wants to fuck Greenberg let her. It's just proof that I was the best she'll ever have anyway." Jackson faced the blank TV screen and chugged down the rest of his Mountain Dew.

"Ya know, I don't know what happened between you two-" Danny tried, but was viciously cut off.

"No, you _don't_."

Jackson heard his friend's heartbeat return to normal.

"Look, all I'm saying is, I don't care whatever you two went through. I care what _you're_ going through. Now. You keep missing school when you're not sick, You haven't invited me over in like months. I haven seen you at the gym in forever. Whatever it is you're dealing with, you can't do it alone. You and Lydia were friends before you dated. Maybe you should give her another chance. Maybe she could help-"

Jackson stood up, crushing his soda can in hand, "I'm not 'dealing' with anything! And if I was, I wouldn't need Lydia's help and I wouldn't need yours! I do things _by myself_. That's how I work okay? I don't _need_ anybody. If you want to stir up drama, go find someone else. I'm not your _boyfriend_."

Jackson didn't want to deal with this right now. He had invited Danny

in to chill and have a good time and all he wanted to do was start shit. Jackson didn't have time for people like that anymore.

"Whatever Jackson. If you wanna live in denial, that's fine with me. Here's your homework. I'm out."

Jackson watched the door shut behind Danny and threw his can at it when it did. Danny was so annoying. Why couldn't he just get pissed like everyone else instead of acting all stoic and above everyone. God it was irritating.

He picked up the popcorn bowl and threw that at the door too.

Kernels flew everywhere and Jackson's mood went from angry to infuriated.

Great, awesome, his parents would be home in 30 minutes and he hadn't cleaned the kitchen or taken out the trashy yet and now he had a million freakin popcorn kernels to pick up.

He turned into the wall next to him, pressing his forehead against it. He was about to punch it when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

It was his father.

He opened the text.

"Had to stop for gas. Won't be home 'til after dinner."

He felt a little less angry. At least now he'd get to be alone again.

He looked back at his phone: there was an unread message from Derek.

Jackson raised an eyebrow, curious.

It read, "Meet at my house ASAP. IMPORTANT."

Jackson snorted.

As if.

He didn't take orders.

If Derek needed him, he could come to him.

Jackson put his phone back in his pocket and started to work on cleaning up the mess he made.


	13. A Wild Hale Appears Take 2

**A Wild Hale Appears Take 2** (Stiles)

In the basement, they were greeted by Isaac, who looked a bit too happy for a person who was soon to be living bait to a whole pack of wolves.

The lopsided smile on his face, accompanied by a wink/wave combination confirmed Stiles' suspicion: this guy was crazy.

"Hey guys, long time no see. I guess your social lives kinda died when lacrosse ended, huh?" Stiles feigned a laugh.

He didn't like Isaac.

It wasn't that Isaac was an outright douchebag like Jackson-_Stiles suspected that he'd like him better that way_-it was that whenever he _did_ say something dickish, he always tried to play it off like some joke between friends.

And as far as Stiles was concerned, they weren't friends.

Stiles didn't like how fuzzy Isaac's moral code seemed to be. And anyone who followed Derek around like his little lap dog, had to be some kind of idiot or so he figured.

When Isaac didn't get a greeting back, Stiles saw his smirk fall and heard him whisper, "And so did your sense of humor, jeeze."

Stiles was relieved when Scott broke the tension.

"Sorry Isaac, I guess having your face smashed into the floor dislocates your nose and your funny bone."

Okay, so tension: not so broken.

Since Derek seemed to have vanished for the moment, Stiles supposed it was up to him to eliminate the hostility.

"Oh come on Scott, you healed, no hard feelings, right? Here's an idea, why don't you ask Isaac what that thing on the door means? Hes a smart guy, I bet he knows." Stiles was dripping with faux enthusiasm, adding a wink at the end of his statement that probably looked more like a twitch.

They bit though.

"The thing on the door?" Isaac raised an eyebrow.

"The front door. That symbol with the triangles." Scott's anger was replaced by anticipation. "It looks like a pack symbol, but-"

"It is. They put it there to let us know they're here. And that they don't like us."

"Subtle." Stiles' comment was ignored.

"Okay so they don't like us. Who's they? Why do they even care?"

Isaac opened his mouth to answer, but didn't get the chance.

"Alphas."

Stiles jumped, turning to face the direction from which Derek's voice was coming.

Predictably, Derek proceeded to appear from out of the darkest corner of the room.

They waited for him to explain his one word response, but Derek was in a cryptic mood.

Stiles was getting anxious.

"Care to elaborate Mr. Ambiguous?"

Derek rolled his eyes as if his "k bye" response was the world's most obvious riddle.

"They're an Alpha pack."

"A pack of alphas? How is that even possible?" Stiles was glad that Scott asked, because he was sure that Derek was just itching for another excuse to make him feel like a dumbass. But Derek wouldn't do that to Scott.

"Well-"

"Oh, don't let him fool you. He has no idea."

Everyone's heads swiveled to put a face to this new voice: Peter.

"Okay, uh, what's he doing here?" Stiles was now very uncomfortable, but he fought the urge to cower behind Derek who for once seemed to be siding with him.

"That's a good question. Peter?"

"Well, i was just taking a pleasant stroll through the woods when I smelt something...," he paused as if trying to find the right word,"intense: the overwhelming desperation of you four sturdy boys. So," another break,"I'm here to help. Obviously." Peter's smile was impossibly snarky.

"Yeah cuz you've been such a great help these past few months." Stiles was shot a death glare from the younger Hale.

"What? I'm just sayin-"

"Yeah don't," Derek turned his attention away from Stiles,"What do you want Peter?" He was blunt, as usual.

"Can't a man just come visit his favorite nephew? Does there always have to be a catch?" Peter chuckled a bit.

Derek looked ready to answer but was interrupted before he could start.

"Hey look, I don't mean to disturb your warm family reunion here, but I've got some friends I'd like to find. And I'd like to find them alive. So if you really want to help, why don't you cut to the chase and prove it."Scott was intimidating when he got like this, but also weirdly effective. Stiles remembered his friend from last year, how he was never good at standing up for himself or what he believed in. So much had changed now. He didn't know whether to be proud or frightened. What he did know was he was jealous. The way Scott was so abrupt and determined; it reminded him of Jackson.

"Those are some very alpha-sounding words better watch out Derek." Peter was the epitome of condescending.

Stiles expected Derek to get upset, but he was composed.

Stiles watched him take a breath, controlling the airflow as he exhaled through his nostrils.

"Scott's right. If you're here to help, help. If not, you might wanna remember; you're still weak. Even if you were at full strength, it would still be 3 to 1. You're outnumbered Peter. What's it gonna be?"

If Peter was intimidated, he didn't show it. "Okay okay, no need to get the teeth out. I said I was here to help and I meant it. Obviously I can't do as much physically as I want to, but I know a lot. I can help with strategy and...things like that."

Stiles wasn't convinced and as far as he could tell, no one else was either.

There was a moment which amounted to pretty much silence.

Peter broke it.

"Listen, you're not my biggest fans, and I'm not yours, but I'm so..._bored_. I've got nothing to do. I mean _nothing_. I work odd hours at a privately owned convenient store to pay my rent and then it's back home to do, surprise! Nothing. So yeah, I'd like something to keep me busy and You know you're gonna need help so, why not?"

Derek and Stiles spoke at the same time, but they were no longer on the same page.

"Fine."

"No."

They looked at each other, Stiles with an incredulous look on his face.

"What do you mean 'fine'?Are you forgetting what he did to us? To Lydia? To your sister? "

"Stiles-" Stiles wanted to push Scott's hand from his shoulder, but he saw the warning in his eyes. He looked at Derek who was beginning to circle his Uncle.

"I know what he did. But he wasn't all him. He's different now, right Peter?"

Peter nodded, smirk still in place.

Derek seemed satisfied with this, but it only took Stiles one look from Isaac to Scott to confirm that he was the only one.

Derek stopped circling his uncle and looked straight at Stiles face.

"Besides, maybe you forgot," His voice was all business, but Stiles swore his eyes had a hint of mischief that suggested he wasn't all serious, "but I'm the alpha here: I'm in charge. Which means your opinion, doesn't matter."

Stiles surrendered.

"Okay, fine, let the creepy guy who tried to kill us in on the rescue mission. What do I know anyway." Stiles' usual vibrato was dying down a bit and he was feeling more anxious. He just wanted this to be over.

"So, this "alpha pack"...you think they have Erica and Boyd?"

Derek nodded at Scott.

"Okay...so how are _we_ planning to outwit a whole group of alphas? And how do you expect _Isaac_ to outrun them?"

The room was empty: all of them lost in thought.

Peter spoke up first,

"I know."

"How?" Derek Scott and Stiles shared an awkward glance, embarrassed to have spoken all at once.

"Well, you're not gonna like it."


	14. Phase 1

**Phase 1** ( Peter )

Peter knew that no one was going to like his solution, but that was all part of his plan: look like the bad guy. He would offer a worse solution than the one he really believed in so that when it came time to choose, his actual plan wouldn't seem as awful.

This was the annoying thing about people. They didn't care how efficient a plan was: if it involved death, they refused to go through with it. People like Scott. They wanted to do what was 'right', but Peter knew better. There was no right and wrong in this relative world.

There was only what prolonged your life and what shortened it.

Peter was almost relieved that he didn't have to worry about those kind of things anymore. He could vaguely remember a time from before the fire when worrying about other people was still a thing he had to well..._worry_ about.

He had done some foolish things back then. Things with little to no personal gain.

Now he was smarter. Everything he did had a motive.

He would have felt sorry for Derek, (_having all those confusing emotions interfering with his better judgement was probably difficult_) but Peter just couldn't find it in him to _feel_ at all.

The plan he'd told the boys was one that would undoubtably work, and in his opinion would have created the least amount of danger to all of them, but was shot down immediately due to its immoral nature. He had guessed they would react this way though.

He remembered how predictably they had responded to the suggestion.

"You aren't going to like it." He had warned them, but they still pushed to hear it.

"Why? What do you think we should do?" Isaac finally said something from his place on the space heater.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you were here...Isaac was it? I see you were foolish enough to stick with Derek instead of leaving with your pack mates. Or were you just too scared Derek might get angry at you and show you how much like your father he really can be." Peter got the response he wanted.

Isaac stood up, fists clenched and teeth grit.

"Don't talk about my father like that or-"

"Isaac. Stop. He's trying to rile you up can't you see that?" Derek talked down to the boy as if he really was his disappointed father. Peter doubted that Derek even understood he was doing this to Isaac.

"And, I'm doing a pretty good job of it if I do say so myself." Peter picked at his teeth with his little finger. He was in the middle of freeing a piece of corn from in between his molar and incisor when Scott caught his attention.

"Hey, maybe you didn't hear Derek, but no one wants you here and we've still got you outnumbered. I came to find my friends who were _taken_, not to listen to you insult the ones that are still _here_."

Peter saw Isaac look up when Scott had called them friends.

Derek definitely didn't know what he was dealing with.

That Isaac kid _had_ to go.

"Okay. Back to the plan." Peter was getting bored of being threatened.

"It's fast and easy. And If you do this, you can find the Alpha's headquarters without having to risk one of your 'friends'." Peter said the word with a curled lip.

"I didn't think you cared!" Stiles placed a hand over his heart.

The little shit was so sarcastic.

"What is it?" Scott really was getting impatient.

"We have Derek bite someone, make a new beta. We keep it around a couple days to build some trust then send them out in the woods, tell them to howl at the moon and wait for us to show up. The alphas find them and bring them back to their base and one of us follows them using the Beta's scent. Simple. We know where their base is, no one gets hurt, we use our extra time to come up with a plan of attack."

They all looked horrified at the idea.

"I _warned_ you you weren't gonna like it."

"We can't just put an innocent person in _danger_!"

"Why not?" Peter asked, but knew the answer.

Because they were naive teenagers who still believed the world could be fair.

"Peter," Derek looked at him, "Im not adding any more pack members until my current ones are found. Any other ideas?"

"Yeah, preferably ones that don't involve _human sacrifice?_" Stiles added.

Peter _did_ have another plan. But he wasn't going to voice it in front of the whole group. This one would have to wait until he could get Derek alone. His moral compass always pointed more north when the McCall kid was around.

"Nope. Not any that don't also involve one of you possibly dying."

He was being honest. They weren't going to find a way to do this without sacrificing someone somehow. He figured they would choose one of their own before a stranger, but it didn't hurt to try and he had been pretty bored.

He had said what he came to say. He was just waiting for the correct social cue so he could make his exit.

Isaac gave him one,

"I guess we're back to square one then?"

"I'll be around if you need me," Peter walked to the stairs and turned back around, "Or if you change your mind." He said the last part directly to Derek.

He was tempted to wink, but decided that would be a very sociopathic thing to do and those kind of moves hadn't one him any points in the past.

He was almost out of the house when he heard Stiles from down below.

"Well that was helpful. Anybody else feeling helped?"

Peter smiled.

He couldn't wait for the day he was strong enough to rip that kids tongue out.

He tuned in to the rest of the conversation before he left.

Derek saying, "I don't want to say it, but he's right."

Peter smirked.

_Obviously_.

"There's no way we're gonna do this without risking someone."

Peter had heard enough. He left the old hale property and found a cab to bring him home, satisfied that he'd gotten into Derek's head.

Phase 1 of his plan was a success.

Tomorrow would come phase 2 a longer, but albeit worth it process: get rid of Isaac.

...

**Author's Note: **I would love any reviews, good or bad. :)


	15. Sighs and Indecision

**Sighs and Indecision** (Derek)

After his uncle left, Derek sent Scott and Stiles home.

He was frustrated. He had been so ready for this rescue mission, but after talking to Scott and Peter he just felt completely unprepared.

And Jackson hadn't even bothered to show up. Getting _his_ help wasn't going to be easy.

He had been pacing back and forth through his old living room, trying to think of different ways they could find Boyd and Erica to no avail.

He flopped himself down in the worn out armchair: exhausted.

He absentmindedly fiddled with the threads coming out of the chair arm.

He remembered his father telling him that when _he_ was little, his grandpa used to sit in that chair and tell him and Peter stories of his past adventures as a werewolf. Derek's father had sat in the same chair, telling him and his sisters his own stories. He was so excited to hear them back then. The idea of growing up and being a badass werewolf made him want to grow up fast.

He'd spent almost his whole childhood wishing he was an adult. Now that he _was_, he was disappointed. He wasn't a badass at all. Even Stilinski could see through his idle threats.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?"

Derek stopped wallowing to answer Isaac.

"No."

Isaac looked down at the ground and Derek could hear him as he tapped his fingers on the back of the couch he was lounging on.

He looked completely dejected.

Derek gave in.

"What do you want?"

Isaac stared at Derek. Derek still couldn't tell if he was confused or if his eyebrow was acting up again.

Not wanting to have to ask, he clarified his question.

"What do you want _to eat_?"

Isaac's eyebrow relaxed and he answered, "I dunno. Pizza maybe?"

"Okay." Derek dug around in his back pocket for a twenty.

He found it and presented it to Isaac with a blunt"Have fun."

Isaac stood there, folding and unfolding the bill every way possible.

"You aren't coming?"

Derek didn't look up. He didn't feel up to trying to decipher Isaac's face anymore today.

"No."

Derek listened to Isaac finger the twenty awkwardly before finally slipping out with an,"Okay, uh, thanks."

With Isaac out of his hair, Derek felt the knot at the base of his neck start to unwind at last.

It wasn't that he didn't like Isaac. He just wasn't used to having to be around someone for so long. And Isaac was..._needy_. He was always asking for permission to do everything. And he just expected things like food and a place to stay.

Annoying.

Then Derek remembered how miserable he was as a teenager and was thankful that Isaac was just needy and not an impossible shithead like he had been.

Derek sighed.

He'd been doing that frequently over the past few days. His only way of relieving stress without damaging furniture.

He didn't know what he was going to do about Boyd and Erica. And he definitely didn't know hat he was going to do about the Alphas. He didn't even know what they wanted from him yet.

He thought about Peter.

He was so good at making decisions. He knew how to get shit done. He didn't get confused, he just saw what needed to be done and he did it.

Derek was reluctant to believe it, but he was actually relieved when his uncle had shown up at the house today. It was hard being the only one making decisions and even though Peter wasn't _anyone's_ favorite, Derek knew he wouldn't let him fail. If Peter saw him making a bad decision, he told him.

Something that Scott did too.

The difference was that Scott was so unsure of his werewolf status that he didn't always listen to reason even when _he_ was supplying it.

Peter was as confident as they come. He didn't do anything he didn't want to. And he didn't want to do anything unless it benefitted him.

Which was why Derek was suspicious.

Peter had left so quickly after his plan was shot down it was almost like he had given up. But Peter wasn't a quitter. He got what he wanted eventually. Derek couldn't help thinking he was doing exactly what his uncle wanted. And he had no idea whether that was a good thing, or a horribly bad thing.

He slapped his thighs in an attempt to bring himself out of these whirlpool thoughts and back to reality.

He decided he could make a decision about all of that later. Right now he still needed money.

It was 6:00. Town Hall was still open. He collected his jacket, hat, and sunglasses, and left for town hall to hopefully make some cash like he had intended to do earlier.

But now the prospect of meaningless manual labor seemed more like therapy than drudgery. He was looking forward to sweating out all the pent up indecision that was weighing him down.


	16. Oops

**Oops** (Stiles)

Stiles drove Scott home after leaving Derek's.

He seemed angry, so he let him put in Blink 182 hoping that would lighten him up some. Stiles personally wasn't a huge fan, too whiney, but secretly found it a little hilarious when his friend tried to sing a long so he could put up with it if it cheered him up.

He was glad that Scott didn't want to talk about werewolf stuff, but at the same time felt a little guilty like maybe he _should_ have asked him how he felt about it all.

He figured the music was a good compromise though. Scott could sing out all his angst without actually having to talk about anything and Stiles just had to drive. He knew eventually _he_ would have to inwardly freak out about everything that Derek had said, but he wanted to prolong that for as long as possible. He had to go home and talk to his dad and pretend he _didn't_ have werewolves trying to kill him and everyone he cared about.

The car ride seemed faster than usual.

Stiles was surprised when he turned onto Scott's street even though he was the one driving. He waited for his friend to get in the house before pulling away and heading home.

Stiles was happy to see his dad's cruiser in the driveway when he got home.

He was looking forward to eating dinner with his dad and talking about _normal_ things. He thought this might be just what he needed to calm his nerves after the shit day he'd had.

Which is why he was very unprepared for what happened next.

Stiles entered through the side door, hanging his keys on the rack of the kitchen wall and taking off his shoes. He could smell dinner and it smelled good.

Steak maybe? He found his target in the kitchen, on the stove.

_Yes_.

It _was_ steak.

Stiles' mouth watered. He hadn't eaten since breakfast.

It felt good to want to eat. His appetite had been on the fritz so much as of late that he was worried he'd never get to enjoy good again!

Eagerly, he reached a plate down from the cupboard and a fork from the silverware drawer. He passed on the steak knife.

_Nobody had time for that crap!_

He slapped the steak on his plate and plopped down in his usual dinner chair across from his father.

Stiles went to town on his dinner, stabbing it right in the middle with his fork and tearing at the edges with his teeth. He wasn't very successful with this tactic so after a few bites, he tried instead to fit the whole thing in his mouth and just chew. He was actually kind of proud of himself when he did it.

Then he got a "what the hell are you doing" look from his dad and slowly let the half chewed meat slide out of his mouth and back onto his plate.

His dad was even less impressed with this, making a face that said "No one wants to see your half digested food, Stiles".

"I'll get a knife." Stiles was sort of regretting his choice, but sort of laughing at himself as well.

When he returned with the proper steak-eating utensils, his dad started up a conversation. He was working on a case, stiles could tell by the stack of files in the chair next to him, but he didn't like to talk business over dinner so he asked about Stiles' day instead.

"So, where were you after school?" The sheriff's tone seemed different than usual, but Stiles couldn't place it.

He swallowed his now soggy steak and said," With Scott. We were just hangin, not doin much."

" You were at Scott's place?"

Stiles stopped chewing. This sounded like an interrogation now.

"Yeah," he lied, "why?"

"Interesting." His father clearly wasn't finished with him, but went back to reading through case files.

Stiles put down his silverware. His appetite was gone.

"Okay what did I do?"

The sheriff exhaled and put his case files back on the large stack next to him.

"If I say, Mr. Harris, what comes to mind?"

"Asshole. Douche-bag. Dickwad."

The sheriff graced him with another one of his 'looks'.

"How about _Detention_?"

At first Stiles was very confused as to why his father was trying to give him detention. He was a police officer not a teacher they can't do that right?

Then it all came crashing down.

"_Ohhhhh_. Fuck me."

"Language, Stiles." Stiles would have rolled his eyes if he didn't feel so guilty. He'd just called Harris every name in the book, but now it was all, "language Stiles".

"I got a call from himself asking where you were."

"Dad," Stiles tried to cover his butt, "that guys such a dick. I didn't even do anything to deserve it this time. I was just standing there!"

"Okay, then maybe you can explain the other call from the school I got today asking why you missed your last two periods?"

Stiles didn't have a quick response for that.

"And further more. I called Melissa, asking if you were there and guess what?"

"I know I know I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't _cut_ it Stiles," his dad sounded exasperated, "I've already got two kids missing. I don't want two more disappearing just because they want to play hooky."

"We weren't playing hooky!" Stiles corrected.

"Okay, what _were_ you doing? What was _so_ important that you had to ditch school and bail on detention. What kept you _so_ busy that you didn't have time to make _one_ phone call to let someone know where you were?"

Stiles scrambled for an answer that didn't sound dumb. No luck.

"I don't have time to play the "where's the Stiles" game, son. You have a cellphone. Why couldn't you call me? _Text me_ even?"

Stiles decided to go with the truth...or at least the half truth.

"We were in the woods. Looking for Erica and Boyd."

His dad seemed to calm down a bit now that he had an answer.

"Stiles. How many times do I have to remind you. This is my job. I'm certified to do his kind of thing, that's why I do it. You're job is to go to school. That's it. Not playing detective. Especially not when there's a possible kidnapper out there, alright?"

"Yeah." Stiles was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

"Stiles. Look at me."

Stiles did as he was told.

"I love you son, you _know_ that. But you _worry_ me."

"I'm sorry, I just...I just wanna help."

That part was true at least.

"I know. I'm not so much mad as I am embarrassed to have had _no idea_ where you were. Which is why,"

_Oh geeze here it comes._

"You're gonna text me every three hours,"

"You gotta be kidding me."

The sheriff held his hand up, he wasn't finished.

"And if you don't, I'm taking your phone away. Understood?"

He was really starting to hate phones.

"But what about school?"

Stiles tried to look innocent. His father didn't buy it, cocking his eyebrow.

"Yeah, Don't even try to pull that one kid. As if you _don't_ text in school."

Stiles slumped his shoulders. It was worth a try. He got up, taking his dish to the trash to dump out his chewed up steak.

"I really _am_ sorry dad. I totally spaced that detention."

"I know. Which is why I told him you'd make it up tomorrow after school."

"_Daaaad_." This was cruel.

"Nope, no buts. 2 hours. And if you don't show up, you can kiss your laptop goodbye."

"This is so unfair." Stiles dropped his plate in the sink, letting it clank loudly to get his sense of injustice heard.

"Life's unfair kiddo." His dad went back o his files and Stiles went up the stairs.

He was almost at the top when his dad said,"Goodnight."

"Sleep tight" Stiles added with some sarcasm.

His dad came back with an equally sarcastic, "Don't let the 'gyrating gingers' bite."

Stiles tripped up the last step. He _knew_ he should have erased the history.

Oh well.

Stiles was too tired to care. He landed on his bed in a heap and waited for sleep to take him.


	17. Distracted

**Distracted **(Scott)

Scott was lying in bed. Trying not to to think about the huge shit storm Derek had unleashed on him earlier today. But when he wasn't thinking about that, all he could think about was Allison. And he couldn't do that anymore.

What was he going to do. He couldn't let Derek just use Isaac. But he didn't have the slightest idea of what they could do instead.

Scott was also just pissed.

Derek never told him anything, and always expected him to just help without asking questions. He was so _aggravating_.

Like, did he really think he was going to be able to hide this whole 'alpha pack' thing from him? Derek was so shady. Scott wanted to trust him, but he made it really difficult when he withheld important information like this. And the way he trusted Peter. That was sketchy. He knew that they were family, but he just couldn't bring himself to grasp how Derek didn't want rip Peter's head off after everything he did.

Scott rolled over, digging his face into his pillow.

There was still a large part of him that wanted to blame Derek for everything that had happened to him. He knew that technically it was Peter who bit him and turned him into this, but he couldn't shake this feeling that it was really Derek who'd stolen his normal life from him somehow.

He knew this wasn't fair to Derek, but frankly he didn't care as much as he maybe thought he should. Mostly he just wanted Derek to know that he was his own boss. He didn't need Derek and never really had. This alpha pack wasn't after him, it was after Derek and Scott wasn't going to get involved any more than he had to. He just wanted to find Erica and Boyd and then Derek was on his own.

He thought this, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach he knew he was lying.

He felt bad for Derek.

He was a lot like Isaac: He didn't have anyone.

Scott didn't always agree with Derek's choices, but he usually understood them. He just wanted to have a pack, a family.

Scott thought about Isaac and Derek.

Both of their families had been destroyed. Derek had lost his all at once, Isaac one by one.

Scott didn't know which was worse.

He tried to imagine his mother gone, but quickly stopped: He didn't need any bad karma on his side. He had enough to put up with.

It was weird realizing that both Derek and Isaac had had pretty big families to begin with and now they were the last surviving members. He had always only had his mother and she was still with him. He couldn't tell if it was more horrible to lose the one person who was always there, or the multiple people you always thought would be.

Scott was an Omega in the wolf world, a loner, an outsider, but Isaac and Derek were omegas too. Not in the wolf world, but in the human aspects of their life.

Scott tried to find the symbolism in this epiphany like they did in Ms. Bates' English class, but he'd never been good at that kind of thing and gave up.

All this thinking was making him depressed. He wanted to go to sleep, but there were too many things swimming in his brain.

He got out his homework: two chapters from 'A Farewell to Arms'. He opened up the book and rolled onto his back again. He was already 3 chapters behind, so that two was really a five. Normally this much reading would have overwhelmed him, but he was already too overwhelmed to be overwhelmed. Besides, Reading usually put him to sleep pretty fast. And that was what he was aiming for.

Only a paragraph in, Scott felt his eyes drooping.

He didn't fight it. He let the book fall out of his hand onto his stomach. He let his breathing find a rhythm and let his mind wander a bit before falling.

He thought about the book.

He didn't like Henry and Katherine. They didn't love each other. They were just using each other. Scott didn't think that was right.

Then Scott wondered if maybe having Allison as his 'anchor' was considered as using her. He discounted that idea quickly though.

He wasn't some Hemingway hero.

He _loved_ Allison.

She wasn't a just a distraction.

_Right?_

And he was asleep.


	18. Back to Work

**Back to Work** (Lydia)

Lydia woke up on time this morning. She'd made her entrance yesterday. Now she had to get back on schedule.

She got ready, grabbed her dark purple coach purse to match her shoes, and ate breakfast on the way to school.

She wasn't much of a breakfast fan, but she knew not eating it would mess with her metabolism so she compromised with a protein shake to go.

She arrived at the school with five minutes before the first bell.

Just enough time to get her things and a good seat for precalc.

She sat in the middle of the classroom. It was a good distance from the whiteboard and it meant she'd have someone on every side of her. The perfect seat for socializing and for avoiding the teachers questions. Mrs. Shea always picked on the people in the back.

She was in the center, where she belonged.

Lydia considered waiting in the hall to talk to Allison before class started, but decided against it. She knew that had partner work planned for Chemistry so if she talked to her now, they'd have nothing to talk about when they were partners. And when Allison didn't have anything to talk about, that usually meant she wanted to talk about Scott.

Lydia rolled her eyes just thinking about it.

She really needed to help her move on.

_She'd_ moved on from Jackson and they had dated a lot longer than her and Scott.

It was time for her to find someone new.

The first bell rang and the class room started filling up.

The first row was occupied quickly; apparently she wasn't the only one who knew 's habit of calling on the kids in the back.

Danny walked in and waved to her and she sent him an obligatory smile back.

He sat down in front of her.

She was a little annoyed at this. Danny always wore too much cologne which meant she'd have a headache by the end of class.

The second bell rang and Jackson stumbled in looking disheveled.

Lydia watched him scan the room for an empty chair and then watched his face collapse when he saw that the only empty seat was behind her.

She flipped her hair, then flipped open her notebook to doodle.

She was pressing too hard with her pen though, puncturing a hole through the first couple pages of her notebook.

She huffed, disgruntled, and placed her treacherous pen down a little too hard, making a smack loud enough to make Danny turn around and ask if she was alright.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

She blinked in reassurance

.

She was about to relax, when the hairs on her neck prickled.

"You seem upset. Rough night?"

Jackson low voice made her tingle.

She refused to face him as she responded. "Maybe." Playing coy was second nature to her, "why do you ask."

She knew the answer already.

She had asked Greenberg on a date yesterday while he was gone. She made sure that Danny heard it too, knowing that Danny was too loyal _not_ to run to Jackson with this information.

Of course, she didn't actually go on a date with Greenberg, she was jaded maybe, but not _desperate_. But Jackson didn't need to know this.

So of course he expected the worst.

"Don't play stupid Lydia. Danny told me about your date."

She smirked. Boys were so predictable.

She heard him scoff.

"Whatever. I hope for your sake he was better in bed than he is on the field. But judging by how tense you are," Jackson placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them for emphasis,"he didn't do a very good job. Am I right?"

Lydia stiffened. His hands were harder than she remembered.

She turned her head slightly and whispered back, "Don't patronize me when your sweaters inside out and the circles under your eyes are the same color as my purse. Looks to me like your the one who needs to loosen up tough guy."

She turned back to the front of the room. The conversation was over.

She'd won.

He let go of her shoulders and she heard him take in a panicked breath.

She pursed her lips. He cared so much about his image.

It wasn't like she didn't. But she was a girl. It was different.

She was going to take pity on him. Turn around and tell him his sweater wasn't really inside out, but he moved first.

His hand was around her neck, his thumb nail digging into her skin.

"No." He growled.

She gasped and the class turned to face them.

She felt him recoil, his hand gone from her neck.

"Mr. Whittemore, are you feeling okay?"

Lydia was a little offended. She had been in a choke hold less than a second ago, but all anyone cared about was Jackson?

"No. I ...need to go."

He sounded shaken and ran out the door, fast enough to disturb the worksheet on Lydia's desk.

She bent down to pick up the fallen paper when something pinched her neck.

She felt around where it stung, finding something embedded in the skin between her neck and collar bone.

She slid it out, cringing at the sharpness of it.

Once it was completely displaced from her neck she examined her findings.

Her eyes widened and she felt a little sick.

It was a nail.

_Jackson's_ nail.

She dropped it on the ground and covered her mouth to keep from shrieking.

That was _disgusting_.

" do you need to leave?"

Mrs. Shea raised her eyebrows in Lydia's direction.

"No."

She didn't trust herself to say more.

"Alright then class, back to SOHCAHTOA. Mr. Davenport, walk us through question 6 would you?"

Lydia picked her paper up and tried to focus on the equations but she couldn't. The ordeal with Jackson had bothered her.

It wasn't that she was _worried_ for Jackson.

She just didn't want people to associate him with her after this little freak out.

Yeah...That was it_._


	19. Jump or Fly

**Jump or Fly** (Isaac)

Isaac opened his eyes. It was dark and he was cold. His heart skipped a beat before he realized where he was. He was in the basement of his old house.

That explained the lack of heat and light.

Since his father had died, the house had been shut down with no one to pay the electricity bills. And it was generally cold down there anyway.

He shivered a little. Pulling his sweatshirt tighter around his middle.

He had slept on the floor even though it was dusty and uncomfortable. He didn't really want to sleep in the basement, but since they'd taken all the furniture from the house, the basement was the only room that still felt familiar. He wasn't really sure who had taken it or where all there stuff had gone. He assumed someone had ransacked the house and sold what they could find while he was still a fugitive. For all he knew it could have been some unknown relative. The kind that was close enough to inherit your stuff, but not your orphan. He had came home to find the house empty. Clearly someone was trying to make a statement. "This house was no longer his home".

And that was kind of true...to a point.

Really he shouldn't even be in the house since was up for sale now that no one lived in it. He had seen that kind of thing on TV before. What had they called it? Squatting?

Isaac thought that sounded uncomfortable. And his experience had proved that thought true.

But that's what he'd been doing for the past few months.

He stayed with Derek occasionally, but he preferred it here.

Derek had this unsettling way of making you feel unwelcome as Isaac liked to put it. He didn't vocalize it, he just kind of stared and didn't speak.

Last night had involved a lot of silent stares from Derek. So he stayed here.

It wasn't so bad.

He missed his house. He had lived there his whole life. All of his memories were attached to this place in some way. He had his last memories with all of his family members in this house.

He took a deep breath through his nose.

His basement had always had a distinct smell to it.

A mixture of dust, mildew, and strangely enough Vicks vapor rub.

It was kind of comforting...sometimes.

The smell made memories zip through Isaac's head all at once in fast forward.

Images of him and his father playing air hockey, of his mother asking him to climb on the storage shelves to reach a puzzle or a board game, of his brother and him racing down the stairs in the summer to get the last blue ice pop from the freezer.

And that's about where the good memories ended.

Isaac didn't care to remember much more, so he got up and left in a rush.

He felt a little cramped down there so it was good to feel the fresh spring air on his skin. It made him feel lighter in weight and spirit.

He smiled. This so beat sitting in a stuffy classroom all day.

The sun was on his face and he could smell stirred up dirt on the wind.

It made him want to do things like climb and run and jump off of stupid heights. And now that he was a werewolf, he didn't really have to worry about safety anymore.

Isaac remembered a game his brother used to play with him when they were little. They called it jump or fly. They had wanted to call it jump or die, but their mom said it was too violent and if they wanted to play, they have to change the name. So die became fly.

It went like this: They'd take turns picking things to jump off. They started small first: rocks, the swing set, cars.

Then they'd work their way up to bigger things like trees and windows and garage roofs.

The goal was to find something that the other person was too chicken to jump off. If someone didn't jump, they got the usual razzing and were called chicken for the rest of the day. The real tricky part of the game, was that you could only choose things for the other person to jump off, that you were willing to jump off as well. This was where the 'flying' part came in. If you chickened out of your own jump, the rules stated that you must flap your arms and run around the house while singing,"I'm a chicken whose scared to fly. I've got feathers and wings but its still too high!"

It was the _ultimate_ embarrassment.

Isaac had been over-cocky since he could walk, so naturally he ended up singing a lot more than jumping.

Things were different now though.

Isaac was determined as he scaled the wall of his former home. He wanted to try something.

His brother had dared him once, to jump from their roof to the neighbor's.

Isaac had said it was impossible and refused. He of course waited for his big brother to back out as well, but he didn't. He claimed that he'd done it the other day and that since this was an extra hard jump that it didn't matter when he did it just that he did. Isaac didn't believe him for a second and told him that he'd call him chicken until he saw it anyway. He honestly thought that his brother would drop the act and just fly, but he jumped. He missed by about 5 feet and he broke his arm in 3 places, but he had jumped and that meant Isaac still sang allowed to call him chicken.

Isaac stood on the roof. He looked at his target, then up, then back.

He put himself in track start position, counted down from three and jumped. He landed with ease and couldn't stop there. His adrenaline was going crazy.

He leaped from house to house feeling like superman for what felt like...Isaac didn't even know. Eventually he made it back to his neighbors roof and slid down to the ground where he collapsed, out of energy.

He was on his back, facing the sky. He was alone, but he felt the need to say something, so he did.

"Who's afraid to fly now?"

He laughed at the childishness of his question, but didn't regret it.

It felt good.

_He_ felt good.

Lying on the pavement by his neighbor's trash can totally winded, Isaac felt more right than he had in a long time.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled so big that it hurt.

He felt a dumb, to be so happy out of nowhere, but he couldn't stop it.

Today was just a good day.


	20. Thursday

Thursday

Scott was having a bad day.

Which was especially disappointing to him because it was a Thursday. He'd always liked Thursdays, looked froward to them even. Thursday was the day you made plans to hang out on Friday. The day teachers had review days which were really just fake school days. It was the start of the end of the week. If you'd been having a shitty week, thursday was the day where it either turned around or got worse, but In general, Thursdays meant relaxation was on its way.

This however, was not the case with this Thursday.

It was only third period and Scott had already failed a test, been sent to the office for being tardy, and now Mr. Harris had assigned a partner lab.

This wouldn't have been a problem if Stiles hadn't pissed him off and gotten thrown out of class, but as it was, Scott was the only person without a partner which meant he'd have to work with Mr. Harris.

Scott was preparing himself for this painstaking task, when he was saved.

An elderly woman from the main office opened the door and stuck her head in the room.

"Lydia Martin, the guidance office would like to see you."

Scott couldn't believe it.

He was spared.

With Lydia gone, he would have to work with her partner which if he remembered correctly, was Allison.

" , Ms. Argent. You know the drill."

Scott dragged a stool over to her lab table and sat down : excited.

There was no way Allison could ignore him for the whole class now.

He clapped his hands together and rubbed in anticipation.

"So what are we doing?"

Allison looked at him through her eyelashes, "Well..."

She stopped there.

"Uh oh, " Scott pretended to be worried, "don't tell me Lydia is usually the one who does all the work. Cuz if that's the case, we're screwed."

Allison stifled a laugh.

Yes. He was winning her over.

"I guess we're in trouble then, cuz I have no idea what we're doing."

Scott loved that she was laughing with him.

It felt almost like nothing had changed.

"Mr. McCall, last time I checked there wasn't much to laugh about when it came to Nitroglycerin." Mr. Harris looked over the rim of his glasses at them.

"Sorry ."

Allison chuckled at his embarrassment.

"I guess this would be a good time to start over, huh?"

Scott blinked.

_Was this really happening?_

"What?"

Allison raised a brow at him.

"On the project Scott. The thing bubbling over in front if us?"

Scott sank.

"Oh. Right."

The rest of class was a little awkward since they really didn't know what they were doing, but Scott was still satisfied with how it went. They'd passed the lab with a C+ and even though there had been a few awkward silences, but beneath that tension, Scott was sure he could feel something.

They weren't over.

She still loved him.

But she was fighting it.

And Scott could deal with that.

He knew she needed her space and she deserved it.

He was just relieved that Allison didn't hate him.

It felt like his heart was flying.

The day had started out downhill, but maybe things were finally turning around.


	21. Sleuth

Sleuth (Stiles)

He hadn't even been in the class for 10 minutes before Harris found an excuse to throw him out.

Apparently spinning in your seat was now a federal offense.

Stiles wasn't really that angry though, he was just upset that he'd been embarrassed in front of Lydia.

He let his head fall backwards into the wall he was sitting against. The brick connected with his skull harder than he'd expected , but with no one around to see, it didn't hurt as much.

He tapped the floor next to him, his fingers moving with dexterity he didn't have.

His nerves were a little frazzled.

He had woken up late this morning and forgotten to take his medication.

Now he was paying for it.

Eventually his fingers made his way to his shoelaces which seemed to please them. They spent a good 5 minutes untying and tying those before finally giving up.

Moving his fingers wasn't enough anymore.

His whole body felt like a giant spasm waiting to happen.

He shifted around against the wall, but couldn't get rid of his jitters.

He knew what his body wanted.

It _wanted_ to rock back and forth, but Stiles wasn't going to let it win.

He'd compromise.

He crossed his legs Indian style and rocked from side to side instead, seeing how much of himself he could get off the ground without fully tipping over.

He was getting good at that when he heard the sound of high heels clacking their way down the hall.

In fear that it might be an upperclassmen, he ceased his incessant twitching.

He didn't need any more weird rumors being spread about him.

The heels turned out to just be Mrs. Delacore from the main office.

He was still glad he stopped rolling around though, Mrs. Delacore was in charge of locking the front doors after the second bell. If she liked you and saw that you were running late, she would sometimes hold the door open for you.

If she didn't like you, she locked you out and you had to get a tardy slip. Considering how often Stiles was late, he couldn't afford to offer her any excuse to dislike him.

He waved to her from his spot on the floor and she waved back, stopping in front the chemistry door.

" , I wouldn't think to see you out here!"

She sounded genuinely surprised.

Stiles wasn't sure why. Considering she worked in the office, she had probably had the pleasure of pulling out his permanent record every now and then.

Stiles played along though, assuming that this was probably her way of doing that weird old lady flirts with high school boy thing that he'd seen so many teachers do with Scott.

"I know, they're crazy! This school is falling to pieces Mrs. D, ya gotta help me!"

He did his best to look cute.

"Hohoho Stiles, you're such a jokester. That sense of humor will get you in trouble if you're not careful!"

"Don't you think I know."

He gestured to his current predicament.

She laughed again and leaned over, closer to Stiles.

She smelled like musty flowers and printer ink.

"Between you and me, Harris has always been quite the stick in the mud."

They laughed and Stiles added a companionable, "you said it Mrs.D."

Their laughter subsided, Mrs.D going back to her job and Stiles going back to being bored. That is until he heard what Mrs. Delacore had come for.

"Lydia Martin, the guidance office would like to see you."

Stiles ears perked up at the sound of her name.

He wondered what they needed Lydia for.

He straightened up his back and tried to put an apathetic expression on his face as Mrs. Delacore went back down the hallway. Not long after, ' door swung open again.

Lydia.

He looked away trying to play it cool.

But when he looked back Lydia was already halfway down the hall.

He palmed his forehead.

Of course she was going to ignore him.

Still, he was curious.

He waited for her to get to the stairwell at the end of the hallway before making his move.

He started out crawling, but changed his mind.

He figured a kid crawling down the hallways looked a lot more suspicious than

Someone just walking.

He made it to the guidance office just in time to watch her slip behind the door.

She was wearing this flown skirt thing today and Stiles wished it had gotten caught in the door, exposing that perfectly round ass of hers.

But then he rethought and decided that would have been terrible and super embarrassing for her.

And then he pictured the scene in his mind and hoped it would happen on her way out.

He had been daydreaming too long.

Lydia had already sat down in the waiting room of the guidance department.

He strolled over to the bench just outside and sat, trying to look inconspicuous as he stole glances over his shoulder.

Oh god. Lydia had her perfectly soft cream colored Legs draped one over the other. Stiles swallowed hard and silently thanked whatever ancient society told women that they should cross their legs while sitting.

Sweet _Jesus_ they were as smooth and shiny as marble.

He bet they felt like satin. He didn't even know what satin felt like, but he imagined that what touching her legs was like. Like you'd have to be really rich to be able to. Stiles stopped himself, wait, that made her sound like a prostitute.

His leg fantasies were put on hold as she stood up and disappeared into Ms. Morrell's office. He waited for what he considered to be an acceptable amount of time before entering the guidance department.

He took the seat closest to Ms. Morell's office- the same one Lydia had been in.

It was still warm.

Stiles decided this transference of body heat counted as some kind of hurdle in the dating world.

The school psychologist walked in to drop of some papers and looked skeptically at Styles.

To shake him off, he tried to look troubled, furrowing his brow like he'd seen Jackson do millions of times while talking to Lydia.

He tried to avoid the pouty mouth scowl that Isaac wore constantly though. He wanted to look troubled, not broken beyond repair.

The psychologist guy seemed to buy it and left him alone, shutting the door behind him.

The coast was finally clear.

Time to sleuth.


	22. Surprise Visit

Surprise Visit (Derek)

Derek pulled off his shirt.

He was sweating an awful amount and deemed this the best solution to avoid dirtying it. He didn't have a lot of clothes and he didn't go to the laundromat until Sunday so he had to be conscious of how much he did in his shirts.

He didn't want to develop permanent sweat stains or anything.

He had had success in finding work when he went back to town hall. Someone on Cypress Avenue was redoing their basement and needed help knocking out drywall and setting down tiles. He was hoping to start last night, but the guy had only wanted to have a meeting. Derek went of course, but zoned out for most of it, tuning in only to catch what time to show up and what time to leave.

He had been thinking last night about what their best plan of action was.

He was surprised to find the house empty, but was grateful.

He really did feel more relaxed without Isaac skulking around asking for things.

He kept trying to fill the potholes in their rescue mission, but couldn't find a way. His uncle was right. They would have to sacrifice someone. But who?

A voice in the back of his head shouted Isaac.

He _had_ volunteered.

And he did owe him for all the help Derek had given him.

But something inside him seemed reluctant to let Isaac go.

He blamed that on McCall.

Scott was always questioning Derek's judgement. It wasn't healthy.

Derek had enough questions of his own.

Now wasn't the the time to think about things like this though. Now was the time for not thinking. He had to clear his mind and let out his frustration.

Tearing down drywall was good for that.

He slammed into the beams with a sledge hammer, watching them splinter everywhere. He wanted to punch the walls down with his hands. It would be so satisfying to feel them crumble under his strength, but that would draw too much attention. He was already using a fake ID. Something he thought he would never need again after his 21st birthday.

Things were odd that way.

He was almost done knocking down all of his assigned targets when the guy who owned the house called for a lunch break.

Derek looked around for his shirt and found it under a pile of sawdust.

He grimaced.

So much for trying to keep that clean.

He lost all interest in preserving the state of his shirt at this point and went to town, using it to soak up the layer of perspiration that had taken over his skin.

He'd get a new one when he got home.

Derek jogged the rest of the way to his house. Once he started doing a lot of physical activity he didn't like to stop.

He had his shirt slung across his shoulder when he reached his destination, but put it on before he went in the door.

Isaac may have shown up while he was gone and he didn't like to be shirtless around him for too long.

It wasn't that he was body shy. He was proud of his healthy life style.

Isaac just had this way of looking at people though as if he was sizing them up in more ways than one.

He'd seen him do it to both Scott and Stiles before and was too awkward to ask about it so he just let it go.

Teenagers had a lot of hormones.

He didn't want to provoke any by accident.

Whatever was goin on in Isaac's head was Isaac's problem._ Not his_.

Derek found his travel bag where he kept his clothes and pulled out the shirt he'd worn to bed the past two nights. He figured he could afford to get that one sweaty since he'd worn it a few times already.

He was about to rinse his other shirt out in the sink when he heard someone outside the door.

He opened it thinking it was probably just Isaac, but found himself face to face with his uncle.


	23. To the Point

**To the Point ** (Peter)

Derek slammed the door in his face.

Peter scoffed.

"That's not gonna make me go away."

It was only a few seconds before Derek opened the door again, defeat on his face.

"Nice try though Derek."

Peter pushed past his nephew, stepping further into the old house.

"Where's the kid?"

Derek closed the door, but didn't join him in the living room. He stayed put while he answered, "I don't know."

"Now that's the Derek I know and love." Peter made himself comfortable on the couch, crossing his legs and leaning into the cushions.

"What do you want?" Did Derek ever smile?

"Always right to the point with you, huh?" Apparently Derek didn't appreciate humor today, responding with a gruff, "Just tell me. I've got work."

"Well, it's about the plan."

This seemed to liven him up some.

"You have a new plan?" Derek inched closer into the room, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

Peter laughed, "A new plan? Not exactly, but I come bearing logic and common sense which will help you understand why your first plan is the best choice...with a few modifications from moi of course. "

Derek looked reluctant but said, "I'm listening."

"Good." Peter leaned forward planting his feet firmly on the wooden floor.

"Now, initially, you were going to have Isaac distract the alphas while you picked up their scent, correct?"

"Yeah, but we decided that was too risky. We don't know how many will show up and we can't take them on all at once. We're too few in numbers." Derek's face fell.

"But I, being the devilishly clever genius I am, have found a solution to that little problem." Peter beamed, lifting his chin in the air to bask in his self appraisal.

Derek cocked an eyebrow. Disbelief written in the crease between his eyebrows. "You expect me to believe that you somehow found a way to make my measly pair of teenagers into a full pack of werewolves?" Derek pronounced his words slowly for emphasis.

Peter laughed to himself.

"No, I haven't. But I think I've got a way to fool them into thinking we have."

"I'm not gonna like this am I?" Derek frowned. He was pretending to be hesitant, but Peter could read Derek's poker face with his eyes closed. It was the same face his father always tried with him when they were kids together. Derek was desperate. And desperate people were easy to manipulate.

"Tsk, tsk Derek. Don't be so judgmental. You haven't even heard it yet." Peter clucked in his most condescending tone.

"Fine. Tell me." Derek knew he was beat. Peter stretched back and made himself comfortable, smiling in victory. He loved when things were unfolding according to plan.

"Alright then. First things first: How friendly are you with the Argents?"


End file.
